


drive dangerous

by badacts



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Cars, Like Most Things I Write, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Plot is Cars and Arguing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8728996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badacts/pseuds/badacts
Summary: Car + sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A surprising amount of plot for PWP. Cross-posted from [here](http://badacts.tumblr.com/post/153940734837/dont-tempt-me-whatever-ur-thinking-about).

Neil managed to not slam the front door behind him through sheer force of will. It clicked gently into place instead. From out of sight, Andrew said, “It’s not going to work.”

Neil dropped his wallet and keys on the bench from a greater height than they probably deserved. The clatter made his jaw clench tighter. “What are you talking about?”

“If you think you’re going to teach Kevin something by hanging up on him once a day, you’re wrong,” Andrew replied.

That meant that at least part of Neil’s conversation had been audible from outside Andrew’s apartment. Potentially the part where he’d snarled _fuck off, Kevin_ right at the end. He probably should have realized that. 

“Whatever,” he said, detouring towards the bedroom to peel off his sweaty clothes and take a change from his bag where it was slumped and spilling contents on the floor. He had designated drawer space, but it had seemed like a waste unpacking when he was here for so little time. Now Neil wanted to put every item of clothing away like he belonged, but he recognized that that desire was driven more out of spite than anything else.

That wasn’t very mature. Unfortunately nothing made Neil regress to a mouthy, recalcitrant eighteen year old faster than Kevin Day in a mood. 

He climbed in and out of the scalding shower quickly, emerging with skin pink and still itching with irritation. Even the usually comfortable fabric of his sweatpants and t-shirt felt like they were rubbing him the wrong way. 

He hated to feel like that, too big for his body and too sharp for the almost gentle life he’d made for himself. As gentle as a life centered around Exy and Andrew Minyard could be, anyway. Scrubbing a hand over his face and resigning himself to keeping silent this evening, in case he said anything he’d regret later, he went back out to the living room.

Andrew was slumped across the couch, phone held above his face. He didn’t look at Neil but said, “He’s texting me now.”

Neil sat down in the narrow space between Andrew’s feet and the arm of the couch. He didn’t say anything, which earned him a glance from Andrew as he typed out his answer. Once done, Andrew dropped the phone at his side, where it immediately slid down into the crack between the back and the cushions, and levelled Neil with a look.

Kevin didn’t think Neil should be travelling at this stage of the season, like he had any right to comment on the Foxes anymore. Like they weren’t essentially guaranteed a spot in spring championships, and like they needed Neil there every second to make sure they didn’t regress. 

There had been a few times Neil regretted giving his game to Kevin, but he didn’t remember feeling it quite so strongly as he had hearing Kevin say _why bother, he doesn’t care about his own birthday, you have more important things to worry about_ from his moral high ground of being two years graduated, playing professionally for one of the top-ranked teams in the country as well as US Court, and living with Thea.

“He’s a fucking asshole,” Neil said. It came out a growl, deep and out of place in the quiet. He bit his lip afterwards, worrying it between his teeth.

“Yes,” Andrew said, a blunt agreement. Then he said, “Get up.”

Neil, who jokingly referred to himself these days as being ‘well-trained’ – though only for Andrew – immediately stood. He didn’t even think about it. It was only once he was on his feet that he looked back at Andrew and said, “Why?”

Andrew pushed himself up and was halfway across the room before he answered, “Put your shoes on.”

Neil, frowning, shoved his feet into his shoes. By the time he finished, Andrew was back, wearing a hoodie and carrying one of Neil’s that he handed over. He also had his keys in his pocket, evidenced by the jingling as he pushed past Neil to get to the front door.

He held the door open for him, though. Neil supposed that was something.  
It was hardly unusual for them to go out like this – wordlessly, or at least without explanation. That meant Neil was quiet as they took the elevator down to the basement car parking that Neil sometimes uncharitably thought was the only reason Andrew had picked this particular apartment building. 

As they approached the Maserati, Neil started to peel off to the passenger side, only to be stopped short. Andrew had hooked two fingers into the hem of his hoodie. When Neil turned to look at him, he was holding out his keys.

Neil took them, pausing for a moment while Andrew went around him again in the direction of the passenger side. There was a distinct difference in weight between Andrew’s key ring and his own, but they were familiarly shaped. Years later, and Neil still hadn’t lost the habit of tracing the profiles of his own copies in his pocket or palm when he needed anchoring. 

It still felt novel, sometimes, to belong somewhere.

Shaking the thought from his head, Neil rounded the car for the driver side and climbed in. He hadn’t driven the car in a while, but the roar of the engines was still intimately familiar for all he didn’t care much for the specifics of it like Andrew did.

“Where are we going?” Neil asked as he swung to look over his shoulder while backing out of the parking space. Andrew was a bright-headed blur in his peripheral vision.

“Head north on Queen,” Andrew replied, naming the street the apartment building fronted onto, which meant I’ll direct you.

Under his instruction, Neil took them through town and into the suburbs, and then further still. The area was unfamiliar to Neil – he thought that before when they’d left in the car, they’d gone the opposite direction. The roads out of the city center were progressively less congested, until they were one of the few on streets shadowed with evergreens.

“What did you say to him?” Neil asked eventually, steering through the increasingly winding turns. 

“Variation on the theme,” Andrew replied. He’d been staring aimlessly out the windscreen whenever Neil threw him a glance, but now he seemed to be actively looking for something on his side of the car. “Slow down.”

“How slow?” Neil asked, for the specific purpose of earning the split-second look Andrew shot him before turning back to his window. It, as well as  _variation on the theme_ , was amusing despite the irate boiling in Neil’s chest.

“Turn in here,” Andrew said, waving a hand to indicate where he meant.  
Neil pulled off the road and onto a gravel side road, stopping when he got to a gate. Andrew climbed out without a word and unlocked the chain, swinging the gates inwards and waving Neil through. He swung them shut behind the Maserati’s back bumper but left them unlocked, dumping the chain on the ground.

Neil looked up and found himself in a thick copse of pine trees, which plunged the car into near darkness despite the fact there was still an hour or so of grey autumn light left. The roof light turned everything golden as Andrew climbed back inside for the brief moment before he slammed his door. 

 _Now I’m annoyed_ and _creeped out_ , Neil didn’t say. “Anytime you want to explain this, go right ahead.”

“Drive forward,” Andrew prompted rather than answering. It was marginally better than a joke about finally killing Neil and hiding the body, but not much more.

Neil accelerated gently over the mix of gravel and pine needles, moseying towards the spot of light where the trees thinned out. It was closer than it looked – they broke out into the daylight within a couple of minutes, going straight from dense trees to a wide-open space.

Suddenly the surface under the tires smoothed as Neil pulled onto asphalt. He stopped and put the car in park. It took him a moment of staring blankly to either side to realize where they were.

“Is this a racetrack?” he asked, voice full of blank disbelief.

“Observant,” Andrew murmured. “Yes, Neil. It is a racetrack.”

Neil had plenty of questions, beginning with _how do you have the key to a gate onto an actual racetrack_ , passing through _how often do you come here_ , and ending with _why are we here right now_. He already knew the answer to that last one, and he figured the first didn’t really matter as long as they weren’t arrested. The middle one he was curious about, but from Andrew’s expression he didn’t think he’d get an answer even if he asked.

“We could have just gone to the court,” Neil suggested. If not Andrew’s team base, then the local outdoor court would have been fine. “Same outcome, less chance of getting killed.”

“You wouldn’t want to bore me,” Andrew replied. He looked perfectly relaxed in the passenger seat, legs crossed at the ankle in the foot well and arms folded loosely across his chest. There was just as whisper of focus about him, diffuse but reminiscent of Andrew during a hard game or when he was the one behind the wheel. 

He was looking at Neil. He didn’t look bored. 

“Of course not,” Neil said, with the tickle of a smirk. He looked out at the track, and then down at his hands on the steering wheel. “Are you going to tell me what to do?”

“Drive and don’t crash,” Andrew said immediately. “And hurry up. I don’t have all night.”

Instead of arguing – a pointless exercise by anyone’s standards – Neil put the car back into gear and gently accelerated down the track.  The light was just starting to dim, but with his headlights on Neil could easily see the turns and straights ahead of him. He navigated carefully around the circuit once with Andrew silent beside him.

The second time, he went faster.

The third, faster again.

The fourth, Andrew started talking him through shifting at particular corners and the best lines. It came out more like commands than actual teaching, but Neil was familiar with Andrew’s style. He ate it up, letting the barked words inform the movements of his hands and feet.

Striving for faster on the court had always pushed him to his limits, and forced all the thoughts from his head.  Exy’s speed forced his body – this tested his reaction time and stretched his nerve, as he was held in place and forced to wait at Andrew’s commands to start braking later, and then later, and then even later, until he was sure that there was no way he’d make the corners and instead send them careering off the track.

There was no room for thought. Neil couldn’t even have reliably told someone who Kevin Day was, never mind remember their argument.

Neil wasn’t a reckless driver by nature, but this didn’t feel like recklessness. It felt like control, like the Maserati was a wilder thing than he’d ever really realized, but like it listened to every whip-quick command he gave it and obeyed. Suddenly Neil thought that he could perhaps truly understand the appeal it held for Andrew. 

The harder he pushed the car, the more the knots unwound from his shoulders. He was barely aware of the light fading overhead until he realized he was straining to make out the asphalt in front of him. 

As though they shared thoughts, Andrew said, “Stop.”

The track was still just as empty, a darker patch of black lit by the headlights. It was reminiscent of their late-night drives, as though the world had stopped outside of the car. Neil slowed on one of the straights, coasting to a halt. It was only with the engine murmuring instead of roaring that he could hear how loud his own heartbeat was in his ears.

He lifted his hands off the wheel, stretching his arms overhead until his palms pressed into the roof. “Bored yet?”

A hand wound into the neck of his shirt, tugging for his attention. Neil turned and found them an inch apart, Andrew leaning over the gearshift. The glow of the dash did nothing to illuminate his expression, but Neil didn’t need to see it anyway.

Neil hadn’t managed to bore Andrew before, and he hadn’t tonight either.

Andrew’s kiss was always a spark, and Neil was gasoline just waiting for ignition. Together, they burned.

One kiss was never going to be enough. After the fifth, his lips tingling, Neil climbed over the gearshift and slid into Andrew’s lap. Being face-to-face and chest-to-chest was so much better. Neil pushed both hands into Andrew’s hair, felt the responding burn of hands at the small of his back where his shirt was riding up.

They’d fooled around in the car before. Neil had to admit that there were some advantages to having inherited his mother’s lack of height – it meant he wasn’t likely to hit his head even in a sports car when he sat in Andrew’s lap. Sometimes that just meant kissing with no intent of going further, but there was a distinct difference between that and moments like this. Kissing without going further wasn’t heart-pounding, bitten-lip desperation, for a start.

Neil’s mouth was buzzing, and his heart thrummed in his chest. Andrew’s hands had moved from teasing his back to stroking over his ass, fingers tugging impatiently at the waistband of his pants every so often before realizing it was near-impossible to take them off like this.

Neil didn’t like to undress in front of people, but right now the only person within miles was Andrew, and it was dark. He opened Andrew’s door and slipped out into the cold air, shucking his pants and underwear so he could shove them into the backseat. Then, shivering, he crawled back into Andrew’s lap and slammed the door behind him.

“Better?” he asked, teeth chattering as he pressed against Andrew’s chest. He was still fully dressed – Neil immediately put his chilled fingers to work undoing his jeans, feeling the flinch when they brushed against Andrew’s hot belly.

Andrew’s hands returning to Neil’s ass, slower and more insistent in what was almost a massage, meant _better_. When Neil eased Andrew’s fly down, Andrew lifted up – Neil’s weight included – so Neil could tug his pants down and free his cock. There was no use pretending that feel the effortless bunching of muscle underneath Neil didn’t do something to him. With his hands busy, Neil could only grunt, earning himself a hard suck at the side of his throat.

He already had a bruise from last night, but Neil wasn’t sure how well his shirt would cover this one. Right now he really didn’t care that his teammates might give him shit when he went back – right now he really wanted an entire collar of marks.

He knew that if he asked for that, Andrew would oblige. He was considering it when Andrew gripped his hips and adjusted their positions so that his cock was pressed against Neil’s ass.

This was something in particular that they’d figured out together, and something that Neil loved – he wanted to be as close as he could get, and then closer again. He wasn’t the type to worry that he was too enthusiastic about something, even when Andrew called him junkie with that particular tone he used. But there were moments when he wondered if he was too desperate for the pleasure Andrew gave him when he fucked him.

Now wasn’t one of those moments. Back arching and head dropping forward onto Andrew’s shoulder, Neil felt electricity bolting up his spine and moaned.

“I want,” he attempted. “Can you-” 

Andrew rolled his hips slowly in a slow motion simulated fuck. The pressure and rhythm was a tantalizing tease that forced an embarrassing noise from Neil’s throat. Andrew, used to Neil’s utter failure at ever keeping quiet and also well aware that there was no reason to be quiet out here, repeated the motion seemingly for the sole purpose of hearing that same sound again.  
Neil, of course, obliged him. 

“Yes?” Andrew asked, mouth pressed into the line of Neil’s cheekbone.

“Feels good. More,” Neil said, all on an indrawn breath. “Yes.”

Andrew’s weight shifted, and Neil vaguely heard the sound of the glove compartment being opened behind his back, but he was distracted by the firm rub of fingers against his hole. Something like a whine forced itself between his teeth when that sensation halted, cutting off when they returned slick with lube. 

Neil’s body knew and remembered being stretched open, but Andrew took his time with it anyway. Neil could never figure out if it was conscientiousness or torture – knowing Andrew, it was both.

“I thought you said you didn’t have all night,” Neil said.

Andrew, of course, crooked his fingers in response, his aim unerring. Over Neil’s bitten-off moan, he said, “I only have so much time I’m willing to dedicate to you in a bad mood. But you aren’t in a bad mood anymore, are you?”

“If you don’t hurry the fuck up I might be,” Neil hissed. 

“That sounds like an empty threat,” Andrew said, and then kissed him hard in a transparent attempt at distracting him from the sensation of emptiness as he drew his fingers out. That it was transparent didn’t mean it didn’t work - like always, Neil forgot everything in favour of the flicker of Andrew’s tongue.

For a while, anyway. Patience wasn’t his strong suit. He broke away with a last bite that pulled gently at Andrew’s lower lip.

“Come on,” he urged, setting his teeth into Andrew’s collarbone where his own fingers curled into the fabric had exposed it like punctuation. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to be felt.

Usually, the shiver that always elicited made Andrew move faster - this time, he sunk back, putting an inch of space between their bodies. His gaze, when Neil met it, was challenging.

Apparently Neil was going to have to do all the work tonight. He reached behind himself and got a hand on Andrew’s condom-wrapped cock, lifting up onto his knees to position it against him.

Andrew wasn’t the only one who could tease. Head thrown back, Neil inched down on it slowly enough he felt tension in Andrew’s shoulders where his other arm was curled around them. The temptation to buck upwards had to be almost irresistible, but Andrew’s iron control kept him still other than the faintest electric tremor in his muscles.

Neil liked to be in control, or at least the semblance of it. By the time he had Andrew inside of him, all he could think of was his desperation to move, and to see Andrew come undone under him.

He rose up, feeling the press of leather underneath his knees and the stretch of his thighs, and then dropped down. Andrew’s hands were hot as brands on his skin.

“Like that?” he asked. His voice came out hot and strange.

“I thought you were in a hurry,” Andrew said, low. There was a note of teasing there that Neil liked, but he really wanted nothing in Andrew’s voice but blank pleasure, just Neil’s name and a variety of curse words.

“Oh, that’s right,” Neil replied, and really started to move.

He gave himself over to the burn in his thighs, the rasp of Andrew’s breath against his throat and the sweet slide of his cock inside him. The temptation to let go of any last semblance of control was strong enough he could almost taste it.

Control had its uses, though. Not least because Andrew, who took his own pleasure from driving Neil completely out of his mind, was difficult but not impossible to rile up. Like this, with Neil’s downwards-sinking weight, and the slow lifts that nearly separated them daring Andrew to push up and follow the clutch of his body, was the easiest way to do it. Biting his lip, Neil did just that.

“Fuck,” Andrew said, almost unwillingly. He never really looked desperate - his only tell was the ferocity of his hold, strong enough to leave fingerprint bruises on Neil’s skin. His eyes were black in the glow of the dashboard.

Neil gave himself over to drawing out the little tells in his expression that meant he was close, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and the resistant tension in his neck where he was flushed pink. 

Andrew didn’t respond well to verbal encouragement - the opposite, usually, because he was a contrary asshole - so Neil didn’t bother. He moved faster instead, in earnest, and bit against the tight tendon standing out by his throat. Andrew came with a tight shudder, bucking up at last as his restraint cracked through.

The sight of that as well as the feel was just enough. Neil shouted - something, maybe Andrew’s name, and broke open, coming in a whitewash of pleasure.

Reality came back in increments - a palm on his back with fingers spread wide and possessive, the tracery of kisses over his neck, emptiness that made him shift a little and remember the extent of his body. Fabric passed over his groin and ass, and he was willing, hazily, to bet that that was his shirt Andrew was using to clean him up.

Andrew half lifted him, sliding out the door to stand and leaving Neil sprawled in the seat. Once he’d tucked himself away and done his jeans back up, he leaned over Neil and groped around in the backseat before retreating with the rest of Neil’s clothes in his hand. Those he dumped into Neil’s lap.

“Thanks,” Neil murmured, curling his fingers into Andrew’s less-than-clean shirt. When he tilted his head up indolently, Andrew obliged him with a kiss that was surprisingly generous. Apparently Neil wasn’t the only one feeling more relaxed now. 

For a long moment it was just the two of them again and nothing else - not the car, not the world, and not a single other human being. Just the way Neil preferred it.

When they broke apart, Andrew’s hand in Neil’s hair kept them cheek to cheek for a moment. “Put those on or I’ll make you open the gate naked.”

Neil huffed out a lazy laugh. “No you won’t.”


End file.
